Faded Fire
by xXBeckyFoo
Summary: Because, after all, according to them, if she'd been around more, they could've saved her life. And he supposed that's why he walked away. Because she had always followed them like a shadow, but no one ever gave her a glance. ONESHOT.


_Oneshot._

**Faded Fire**

* * *

><p><em>"My time has come, and so I am gone.<em>

_To a better place, far beyond._

_I love you all, as you can see._

_But it's better now, because I am free." —Unknown._

He knows that if he admitted that he saw the signs from early on it would only add guilt to his plate. If he were ever to admit to anyone—to himself—that he saw the uncontrollable fire forming from a tiny spark that had gone awry, that would only make him the arsonist. They were looking for the answers for the unexpected, unforgiving flames that consumed parts of their world. If he gave them any insight he would only be accused of letting it happen...

But this wasn't about him, was it? It wasn't his job to see the things and signs everyone else ignored on their own. And if that was true, then why, oh why, did he feel like he was the one that put her six feet under?

**X**

He was sitting beside his Godfather Harry, watching him with a little awe as he talked about things he didn't understand, things that were considered grown-up things and classified as important to others, but the very bit unimportant to him. He just liked hearing him talk because every now and then, at random seconds, but never without a doubt, he'd turn and glance at him; smiling like a father does to a son.

The little dining room of Shell Cottage was filled to the brim. The body heat of everyone present collected inside the walls, staying there and adding comfort to the family affair. Everything was warm despite of the cold, summer breeze that traveled from the ocean surrounding Bill and Fleur's home. Conversations sprouted everywhere: people laughed, spoke, shouted, joked, and listened.

Watching all of them, this giant surrogate family that had been given to him because of a cruel twist of fate, Teddy noticed when a blonde woman stood gracefully from her seat and cleared her throat to grab everyone's attention.

"Now zat we 'ave gotten dinner at of zee way," Fleur Weasley began, "I zink eet iz zime zat we cut zee cake!"

In the huddle of people, a few children still growing past their toddlers years cheered as their aunt said the magic word.

Fleur and her mother-in-law headed for the kitchen to collect whatever majestic cake they had baked. As they did so, Teddy happened to look away from a flash of a smile Harry gave him to notice a little redhead girl melting into her chair as she watched everyone else. Her eyes scanned some of the adults cooing over five year-old Louis, others groaning with dramatics as a blonde girl got up off her seat when Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen that an owl had just swooped in.

Victoire quickly obeyed her grandmother and Teddy wondered why he'd never noticed the redhead girl before. He knew she existed, he knew that she was going to be present at the familial celebration, but he'd just gone past her when he entered Shell Cottage with Ginny, Harry, and little James. He greeted everyone but her.

"Here we are!" Coming out of the kitchen while carrying a giant purple cake decorated with mouthwatering candied-butterflies, Fleur and Molly smiled grandly at the satisfied and desiring glances their baked good was receiving.

Setting the cake upon the table, Mrs. Weasley leaned down to press a kiss onto her redheaded granddaughter's forehead. "Here you are, sweetheart. I hope you like it. Happy Birthday."

As Fleur was putting on nine single candles on the cake, loud thump, thump, thumps were heard when Victoire came rushing in.

"I got it! I got it!" she squealed with so much excitement.

Looking away from the ignited candles and the redhead on the chair, all eyes were on Victoire waving a letter frantically at her family.

"It's my Hogwarts letter! It's here! It's here!"

Loud applause and cheers boomed throughout and around the dining room of Shell Cottage. Fleur and Bill rushed towards their oldest child, pride and happiness on their faces as Victoire tore open that famous letter that every witch and wizard got at the age of eleven.

Teddy was the only one to noticed the now nine year-old girl blow out her candles with no emotion at all as everyone occupied themselves cheering for Victoire. She swung her legs off the chair and walked away from her own birthday party.

That was the first time he saw her—really saw her fading away.

**X**

Hogwarts was always a place where something was going on. There was never a dull moment, ever. There were always pranks to be pulled, homework rushing to be done, exams to be studied for, detention to be served, house points to earn, house points to lose, teachers to annoy, girls to impress, boys to reject—to put it simply, the castle was always buzzing with energy. Especially when June rolled around and everything was lighter and the joy of going home and getting rid of those itchy school robes lingered in the air.

He was finally seventeen years-old, finally a Seventh Year, and finally embarking onto a new adventure outside the walls of the school. He had a hell of a time while it lasted; this Hogwarts experience was definitely one for the books. Seven years of recklessness and making some people proud. He'd been sorted into Hufflepuff, which he didn't mind much because Tonks had been there and that made him feel connected to his deceased mother. He met great people, friends he knows will be there for life. And even though one should miss that, all these warm school memories, he was just eager to go and get started with the promising future waiting ahead.

"I'm telling you, we've got this!" Bringing him back to the present, back to focus on all the Gryffindors around him while his friend Zacharias Wood continued on with his rant. "Lupin's agreed to help train Jordan while we train the rest of the team."

"But he's a Hufflepuff," Coral McLaggen argued back at Wood. There was mistrust in her eyes, a certain superior glint to them that came natural to all the McLaggen children in the school. The witch thought herself to be the best and the wisest person when it came to anything related to Quidditch. "How are we certain he'll actually help Gryffindor House?"

Wood frowned at the Sixth Year girl. "He's my best mate," he snapped as if that was reason enough to trust the Hufflepuff. "And because Hufflepuff and Gryffindor have one enemy in common, Coral. Slytherin."

Not thoroughly convinced of Wood's logic, Coral McLaggen said, "you are the captain after all, Wood. It's your call. But I'm warning you, if we lose the cup to those damned Slytherins because Lupin couldn't train our replacement Keeper properly, I'm going to string you up by your knickers on the highest goal post."

Grinning wildly, ignoring the threat, Wood turned and playfully punched Teddy on the shoulder. "You are in, Lupin! Now that we got McLaggen on board, the rest of the team will follow right in. We're going to tear Slytherin limb by bloody limb!"

Before anything else on the subject could come up, two other Gryffindors joined the house-table with plates of food and schoolbags.

"Hey," Roxanne Weasley greeted with a grand smile.

Instantly, Wood sat with some poise, a smirk on his face that glowed with smugness as the dark-haired witch flickered her eyes at them. He had his full-on flirt face. "Alright there, Roxy?"

Fourth Year Roxanne Weasley narrowed her eyes at Wood, not impressed. "Coral," she called instead, completely ignoring the older student, "some of the girls were thinking…."

The rest was sound out from Teddy's ears as he heard Roxanne's companion clear her throat gently.

"Hey, Zach," a redhead called, blue eyes blinking up at Wood timidly.

"Oi, oi! What's this about a party? For me, Roxy, my love?" But instead of hearing that delicate voice calling for him, greeting him, Zacharias Wood was all but too focused on Roxanne to notice the redhead. And he never did notice her pale face with strong, defined features with a wash of freckles at the center of her face, and those thick lashes decorating her blue eyes.

Nor did Wood notice the red strands of fire that had been halfway distinguished by a haircut the girl was now sporting. A haircut she must've gotten when Wood loudly proclaimed to his mates that he preferred on girls.

Biting her bottom lip, the redhead lowered her head and her face was lost in the small curtain of hair that now reached her shoulders instead of her waist. She sat there muted and invisible to the older boy that can never tell the difference between her and a fleck of dust.

Frankly, as he sat there feeling a little awkward that he was the only one who managed to give her two seconds of attention, Teddy knew that she was easy to oversee. It was not Wood's fault that he noticed the radiant Roxanne than the girl that blended with the background.

**X**

One minute he was swinging from girl to girl like the young bachelor he was, and in the next he was sitting on a very familiar couch with a very familiar blonde beside him. He held her hand with numb fingers and sweaty palms, but she held on tightly enough for both of them. Her entire aura was resolute. He was sure her determination was due to the sparkling ring on her finger that he had slipped on earlier that day.

He didn't know how it happened exactly, but he knew that one day it would. Maybe it was fate. They had grown up together: practically raised to fall in love with each other. He had not seen her as a potential romantic partner then, nor during their time at Hogwarts, but then it happened. She confessed her undying love and he went along with it. He cared for her. Besides, he didn't know of anyone else in the world who had stuck by his side like she had.

According to all fairytales, they were meant to be together.

"You're too young!"

The very familiar, roaring voice of Bill Weasley echoed off the walls of Shell Cottage's living room. The man was outraged, enraged, and ready to transform into a beast of beasts.

"I'm twenty-one!" Victoire interjected, narrowing her icy-blue eyes at her father. "I'm old enough to make my own decisions and know when something is right!"

"'Oney, please." Fleur interrupted as her husband's eyebrows shot up and more outrage crawled onto his scarred face. "We just zink zat maybe you two should give eet more zime before you go through zis."

"More time is not going to change our choice!" The blonde was now shouting at her mother. "We're in love and we are ready to settle down!"

More tension and anger came into the room. Teddy just wanted to camouflage himself with the background; to make himself dissolve away from this problem. He hated confrontation, really.

He was taught important moral values by his Godfather—all of them about respect, love, and family—and that was the reason why he was sitting in front of Bill and Fleur Weasley, asking for their blessing on this engagement. He would've told them about the situation via owl, but Teddy figured he was looking for resistance. Just not this loud.

Standing from her parents' couch, Victoire's fingers slipped from Teddy's so she could cross her arms over her chest and make herself appear more determined. "I'm not asking for your permission, I'm letting you know of my choice.

For a moment, there was silence between Bill, Fleur, and their oldest daughter. In that moment, gentle footsteps were heard like the calm swish of wind entering the windows of the cottage. A redhead entered the room looking taller, leaner, and more flaming than ever before. There was also a strange, rare smile on her face. It lit up her face quite beautifully.

"Mum, Dad, guess what? I—"

"Not now!" Turning for a split second,Bill silenced the redhead before she even got the chance to register the tornado in the room.

The smile wiped away from that nineteen year-old girl's face, her blue eyes looking a little taken aback. "But, Dad, I just wanted to tell you that I got—"

"Ma chérie, go to your room, please," Fleur cut-off her youngest daughter, too. "We are discussing somezing very important with your seester."

The redhead's face fell completely. Something undefinable shattered and broke in her eyes. The shadow of her rare smile was gone, like it had never been there. Like happiness could never exist on her features.

"We are no longer discussing anything!" Victoire brought the attention to herself once more. "We are done here."

"We are not!" Bill shouted.

"Victoire, arrêt!"

"—Listen to me!" It happened in slow motion; like the moment an explosion ignites in the air and anyone caught in its path sees their life flash before their eyes. It happened slow, painfully, and destructively. Her yells shook the living room, breaking through glass, picture-frames and the windows. It left cracks on the walls.

He had never heard that dulcet, soft, whisper-like voice of hers sound off and bust like razors to the eardrums.

He must've been the only one to hear the shrill shouts of her voice because Bill, Fleur, and Victoire never turned to her.

"Listen to me!" She screamed again, pale face turning red. "Mum! Dad!"

"—There is nothing wrong to wait a few years!"

"—I love him!"

"—Arrêt! Arrêt!"

"Listen!" She still shouted like if she assumed they would hear her, as if they would turn and listen. "I'm important too! Look at me! Listen!"

"—If you love him in a couple of years, then get married!"

"—You like Teddy! Why are you being so unsupportive!"

"—'Oney, your father and I are just want zee best for you."

Because neither her parents or her sister gave her any indication that they could see her or hear her, the redhead silenced herself. Her screaming was just adding unnecessary noise in a room that didn't recognize her voice.

She just stood there for another second, a look of resignation on her face as she threw at them an envelope she had in her possession before she chose to walk away.

During the continuous argument about their early engagement, one the he should've been trying to settle, Teddy moved away from the Weasleys and reached for the letter on the ground that they would never notice. He opened it and read that the letter was one of acceptance into the Auror Trainee Program.

He flickered his eyes to the path the redhead had left in, debating whether or not he should go to her. It didn't take him long to decide not to. Instead, he ignored the first real sign of an impending meltdown. There was worse to come, but he chose to ignore it like everyone else always did.

_X_

There was a thunder of festivity igniting a field of open space as the stars twinkled, as the moon glowed, as the lanterns radiated, and as Louis Weasley spoke loving crude words about his sister and his new brother-in-law. He had a glass of champagne in one hand and the attention of everyone on him.

He could fleetingly hear Louis say something about catching him and Victoire giving it a go in her room one night—which was a complete lie, he thinks—and how a year ago his dad almost murdered him for proposing to his little girl. Most guests were laughing, looking very entertained, and he would've known exactly why that was if he hadn't been focusing on something else.

There, at the edge of the cliff, he could see her. Her red hair danced along with the wind; thick strands flowing with grace and intensity. It was like flames, like the hot breath of a dragon suspending in the air.

In those short seconds he watched the redhead ahead, Louis' speech was over with, people clapped, and he turned to the blonde next to him. "I'll be right back."

"Where you going, Ted?" his wife asked him.

"I'm going—"

"Just don't take long," Victoire said with a quick smile before she turned back to the conversation she was having with her maid of honor.

Easier than he thought, Teddy made his way to the cliff. Everyone out on Shell Cottage's yard was too busy enjoying the wedding celebration, catching up with people, laughing, eating, to even notice him. He made his way undetected to the girl.

He didn't know why he was bothering, really. It was not his place, and it definitely was not his responsibility. As he reached her, however, he could see her swaying loosely at the edge of the cliff with an almost empty bottle of liquor in her right hand. The night air blew through her, unsettling her further, and it jolted his heart with fear.

"When Louis was seven," like she sensed him, like she knew it was him and that he couldn't keep away, she decided to speak, "Mum got the scare of her life when she looked out the window and saw him here. She cried for an entire hour with him clutched in her arms." She swayed along with the mist of the ocean waves below.

He didn't say anything to that. He just felt worry seep into his mouth as her feet wobbled dangerously.

"She had been so afraid that he might have fallen, that she would've lost him and it would be all her fault..."She paused to take a drink from her bottle. "Funny, that. I've been standing on this edge since I can remember and not once has she ever told me to step back."

Another drink, another gulp, another sway. She turned from her point to stare back at him with a pale face that was lighter than the glow from the moon.

The cold air continued to blow, the waves continued to crash, her red hair continued to dance, the music continued to play behind him, and he couldn't find anything to say. What was he supposed to tell her, anyway? How could he help something so damaged?

"You should really stop drinking," was what he settled for.

She chuckled once and sarcastically. "Yeah, that's my problem."

She took another large gulp of alcohol and it enraged him.

"You're going to end up upsetting someone," he told her seriously.

His words dug into her ears. A single, thick tear rolled down her left cheek. The wind not only pushed her red hair backwards, sending the aroma of ocean mist and sweet fruit in the air, it also threw the tear towards his lips. It shocked him.

He turned from her, ready to make his way back to his wedding celebration.

"They will notice me one day," she whispered before he was too far to not hear it.

He pretended didn't, though. He always did.

**X**

If he wrote it down on paper, life was beyond fantastic. He was twenty-four and thriving. He was working as the undersecretary of the Head of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. His hard work was paying off: the right of equality for werewolves had been passed and he was constantly working on other bills for their support. With Hermione's help, he was making his deceased father proud. Aside from that, he was married to a writer of Witch Weekly; living in an expensive flat in central London. Married life wasn't terrible, Victoire was pleasant and a doting wife.

So, yes, his life should have been summed up as nothing short from perfection—if only he'd not been constantly thinking about red hair, freckles, and a dulcet tone...

He found himself, once again, inside Shell Cottage under Ginny's orders. He was supposed to hand his father-in-law some legal documents considering a private affair his adoptive-mother refused to share details of.

He apparated inside and found no one. He would've made the obvious guess that no one was home, but the cryptic music that hummed from a level above the sitting room indicated otherwise.

Somewhere in his head, in a place where fear was handled well, he knew that he should've ignored the music, the vibe. Despite that, there was another place in his head, a place that was surprisingly strong, that made him walk to find the stairs. He climbed them. As he got closer, as the steps creaked and the waves crashing outside entered through the open windows he past, he heard crashing noises mixing in with the music.

One step, something else crashed. Two steps, another. Three steps, a curse. On his fourth step, he reached the door and heard the distinctive sound of glass shattering against the floor. Then, worst of all, a sob pierced the walls. It was so heartbreaking; so lonely.

Then and there, he was frightened to the core. He turned on his heels and raced down the stairs. He didn't listen to the voice that told him to open the door. If he had, he was sure he would've found the girl with the red hair crying the blue out of her eyes.

He couldn't be her shoulder to lean on, he just couldn't.

**X**

The grass was green, the trees were tall, the bushes were thick, the flowers were blooming, the sky was blue, the birds were singing, but somehow mother nature was not making the waves below crash against the rocks. The ocean was silent, inactive.

He didn't know how he found himself there, outside on the backyard where he got married a few years back. Something made him walk out of that familiar living room and away from his frozen wife, away from his puzzle father-in-law, a stricken mother-in-law, away from a silent brother-in-law, and away from a family with doubts and questions that sat huddled together. To be honest, he couldn't handle the broken, hushed "but why" or the "I never saw this coming."

Something throbbed in his chest and he had no idea how to describe it. That knot in his throat, that emotion of guilt were indication enough that it was something bad.

He knelt down on the grass and his eyes found a carved, marble stone.

It had been nightfall when he and Victoire got the Patronus the day before. Fleur's elegant, yet hysterical swan invaded the bedroom of their London flat. His mother-in-law's outraged and tragic voice had pronounced the death of the girl with sapphires as eyes and fire as hair.

They had found her in a heap of glass, they explained when he and Victoire arrived at St. Mungo's. They found her in a river of shattered crystal, bottles of empty liquor like leaves floating on the surface of that river of glass, and a handful of pills were the fishes. According to the Healer's report, she was found five hours after her heart had stopped beating. Five hours after those blue eyes no longer saw life. Five hours until someone decided to go look for her.

Questions sprouted like flowers amongst the family, amongst the people that claimed they loved and cared. Everyone wanted to know why she'd done it, what drove her to such lengths. No one knew why they hadn't seen the signs, why she had never spoke to them about her problems, why she was so tortured.

No answers could be given to them, no theories could be concluded, so they had to settle for never knowing. After all, according to them, if she would've been around more, if she would've seen that they were her family, always there to assist, her life could've been saved.

All that muttering, all that fucking uselessness, is what made him walk away. His blood boiled at their stupidity, at their blindness; making his guilt grow and become unbearable.

She had always been around, she loved her family, shadowed them, but no one ever took the time to see her. All her life, they overlooked her. Everyone did...

Breathing in the lingering mist of the silent ocean, he focused on the hunk of marble reading: _Here rests Dominique Weasley: Beloved daughter and sister_.

Something else broke inside him. He reckoned it was his heart and soul. He couldn't hold back the tears that clouded his vision, that burned his eyeballs, and left wet paths on his cheeks. He could still see here swaying at the edge of the cliff, her hair like a swoosh of lava flying all around her.

"I saw you, Dom," he muttered to the gravestone. Regret and sincerity drenched his words. "I noticed you."


End file.
